what dinasour is the strongest?

We go down to the river, into the river we come, oooh down to the river. I thought Huckleberry Finn and Mississippi river when we arrived at Peet Se Plek, a cottage by the river. No crocodiles in the river but many of them birds. A binocular later we had already seen: Cape Wag tail/ Sacred Ibis\ Hadida Ibis\ Heephoe.

In the farms that surrounded Peet Se Plek they grew nectarines, Sharon fruits and wine grapes that are picked up and taken care of by black and coloured farmers in the burning sun between 7 and 5 every weekday. The Afrikaans (Dutch heritage) farmers are the ones in charge and the only one I ran into was a kaki short, safari hat colonization looking man that was out for some "fresh air". The friends we made were the children of the farm workers. During the tree days we spent at the farm we went for little walks that ended up being hour long play sessions. I don’t know what to say, I feel I should not say anything and just keep the feeling of the memory in my head. I have some beautiful pictures of them but today I feel it is too much of a project.

At the moment I can hear my mother talking to Gunter, a suntanned German cyclist, and soon I will go to sleep in a 10 bunked bedroom.